The red velvet lines mark the end of all our ends.
Now we stand tall waiting to make our final amends.
The line is so much longer and acid burns deeper in the bowls.
I keep trying to keep my Floyd film tires away from satin shoe souls.
Watching through broken glass as the victims have been bled.
A cool washcloth quenches the thirst within my aching head.
Slashing away all their charity leaving just a twist.
And your pursed red ripe lips left without a final kiss.
I'm sifting blood through forgotten forests while wild winds blow.
I'm recognizing that I'm shifting in my one man staring feature film role.
I'm lifting higher out from where the low limbs grow.
I'm flying so much higher now than when I was fifteen.
Shifting sifted blood through my 24 karat machine.
(c) & (p) 2012 subconscious mind publication company
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